Clearing the Slate ~ Chapter NineRating: NC-18/Mature~ADULTS ONLY! SMINK warning (SmutKink), Dom/sub relationshipPairing: Ellie Bartowski/John CaseyDisclaimer: I don't own Chuck, any of Chuck's characters, and make no money from this. Purely for pleasure. Special thanks to BigBadJayne for wonderful encouragement, assistance and beta throughout this series! Y'all enjoy!

John rose swiftly, crossing the room in determined strides, and taking a seat on the plain, straight-backed chair near the window. "Come to me. Now."

Ellie complied quickly, trying not to let her nervousness show. John held a hand outstretched to draw her to stand by his side.

"Lay yourself across my legs, facing down, and put your hands on the window sill. And don't be slow."

Ellie stretched herself across his parted legs, the gossamer silk sliding up to the small of her back as she placed her essentially bare rear in the center. John adjusted her to the edge of one leather-clad thigh so that her hips bent and her feet touched the floor. Resting his right hand in the small of her back, he twined her long, dark hair in his left, holding it gently but with intent so that her face tilted slightly toward him.

"Look at me. This is very important, Eleanor," he said in a firm but gentle voice. "You must understand: once punishment has been fulfilled, the infraction is forgiven. More importantly, it's absolutely forgotten. By me, and by you. Accepting the atonement means giving up that guilt. That means you don't give it one more second of room in your mind. You're free of it, is that understood?" She nodded, a bit more easy about it. "Good. Now…"

"John?" That tremulous note was back in her voice, despite her obvious excitement at what lay ahead. "Will you be using a w-whip?"

John chuckled, but must have sensed her fear, as he didn't laugh too loudly. For a brief moment, the stern authority faded from his eyes, as he caressed the curve of her face with the backs of his fingers. Brushing a stray wisp of hair behind her ear, he gave her an understanding smile.

"No, sweetheart, nothing quite that severe," he said gently. "Some folks like the welts, and they have their place in pleasure, to be sure. And if that's something you'd like to …" his voice dropped several notes, grew huskier, accentuating the shift in his lower body under her.

His fingers slid up from her ass cheeks to wrap the thin satin of her panties in his grip, his thighs tensing, raising the hard ridge under the leather to grind against her. A slow hiss escaped from his gritted teeth as his lids drifted shut, his body taut as a bowstring drawn for firing. A groan of primal need rumbled from the depths of his broad chest, and for an eternal instant, she was sure he was ready to scoop her up in his arms, toss her on the bed and take her without restraint.

Thrusting up into her prone body, he pressed his erection against her, holding her firm as his breathing rasped uneven and harsh through the room. A ragged shudder ran through him, echoed in her own body. In a moment, she could hear his breathing change, a controlled inhale through his nose, held for several heartbeats, steady exhale spread across several seconds and repeated. The hard muscles of his thighs relaxed as his breath returned to some semblance of normal, his hand releasing her panties and easing down over her buttocks.

Ellie tensed, waiting for the first blow, but John kept stroking her firm flesh. After a long moment, she released the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and relaxed against his strong legs. The second she relaxed, he slid his hand up to the thin waistband of her sheer panties, caressing the tender area of her lower back before slowly dragging the fabric down across her ass. He let the elastic catch at the middle of her thighs, the sensation of her panties pulled down on her legs left as a physical reminder of her exposure, more erotic than had he pulled them off entirely.

The breeze from the open window danced across her vulnerably sensitive and newly-shaved nethers, and despite the anxiety of what was to come, Ellie felt the arousal growing between her legs.

"How many licks do you think we'll need?" John asked casually.

"I… I don't know," she stammered, not having thought of that. "Five?" she asked hopefully.

"Hmmm," John seemed to consider the answer, all the while sliding his palm across the exposed area. "Five seems a bit light. I mean, how many times were you thinking lustful, dirty thoughts of me when you were getting plowed by Devon? I'm thinking… let's start with an even dozen and decide from there. Okay?"

Before she could agree or argue, his hand landed with a sting on her bare buttocks. Ellie gasped as the sudden heat flared and spread across her naked flesh.

"That's one," he said calmly. "Oh, I meant to mention, in order for you to release that guilt, you have to be an active participant in your punishment. Doesn't seem to work as well if you just lie there and get it. So… you count. After each stroke, you give me the number. Because I might lose track, and have to start all over again. And to make sure you truly want this freedom, you'll have to thank me for each stroke, and ask me for the next one. Are we clear?"

"Yes," she whispered, tears starting to line her eyes.

"What was that?" he prompted, rubbing lightly along the area he'd just lit up, before his hand landed again. "You didn't say it correctly."

"Yes, Sir," she said with more conviction.

"Good. That one was to remind you. You don't count it. So, where are we?"

Ellie nodded, adding the count. "One. Thank you, Sir. May I have the next one?"

"Please?"

"May I please have the next one, Sir?"

He was silent for the next strokes, giving neither encouragement nor praise nor condemnation in the long moments between each one, but letting her think about things. Following each smack against her raised bottom, his heated hand smoothed lovingly over her affronted cheeks as she gave the tally.

At four, his hand dipped a bit lower, catching the smallest portion of her newly-bald lips. The stroke stung, but on the heels of that sting, an erotic sensation danced across her flesh.

"He would never do this to you, would he? Never do this for you. Wouldn't understand why you needed it."

"Aahh! Four!" she gasped. "Thank you, Sir, another please. No, he would never have."

"Mmmm, damned shame, that," he murmured as he caressed her inner thighs. "Must have been hard on you, wanting it so bad, never getting what you really needed. Did you ever ask him?"

"I couldn't. Never had the nerve to actually ask him outright," she said, squirming into the warmth of his hand. "But I hinted pretty hard a few times. He did try to spank me with a hairbrush once, but it was… he was just playing, all a joke. Didn't take it seriously. I use the brush harder to get out tangles than he did on my butt. Aahh! Five!"

"Did you ever close your eyes, when he was driving deep into you, and picture my face, Eleanor?"

"I did. I – ohh! Six, Sir! Thank you, please may I have another? – I did imagine it was – " she groaned and arched back into his fingers, two of which were now sliding slowly into her wet, swollen core, "I pictured it was you."

"Wanted it to be me, didn't you?" he coaxed, easing the fingers back out and in again with exquisite patience. "Wanted me to be filling you up, making you moan. Wasn't fair to Devon, you spreading those gorgeous legs for him, letting yourself pretend it was me in between your thighs. Now was it, Eleanor?"

"Ohhhhh! No…no it wasn't fair. Wasn't right," she writhed, spreading her thighs wider as he added a third finger. "But I couldn't help it. Couldn't keep from wanting you."

The delicious fingers pulled from her aching flesh, and she whimpered at the loss. The whine turned to a pleasured squeal as those fingers found her swollen clit, bathing the hard nub in her own juices. Ellie pushed her rear up to give him more access, gasping as the next smack popped her ass.

"S-s-seven! Thank you, Sir, another, please, another!"

He didn't hesitate before the next, but landed the next blow as soon as she asked.

"Eight! Thank you, another, may I please – " the word drifted from her throat on the edge of a deep groan as his fingers curled up into her primed sex again, his pinkie finger slipping down to tease her clit.

"No, it wasn't fair, wasn't nice at all," he said firmly. "But then, he wasn't very nice, either, was he, sweetheart? Wouldn't give you what you needed. Wouldn't give you this…"

She gasped as he pistoned three fingers in and out of her, still working her clit with his pinky, while his thumb spread her come across the tight, virgin opening of her ass. "Wouldn't play dirty with you, and that's just not nice. Cause every girl has a little dirty side to her, doesn't she?"

"Mmmmmmm… oh, yes! Yes, John!"

"Ah-ah-ah…" he scolded, pulling his fingers out to pop her cheeks smartly. "Forgot something. Keep that up, and I'll start to think you like this… maybe you're forgetting on purpose, just to get bonus strokes. Don't count that one, by the way."

"I'm sorry, Sir," she panted, moaning deep when his magical fingers penetrated her once again.

"I like dirty thoughts, did you know that?" He let his thumb swirl a bit harder against her untried opening. "Had lots and lots of dirty thoughts about you. Wanted to tell you about them. Show you what I wanted to do to you, lots of times. But I couldn't, now could I?"

"No," she whined, squirming into his skillful fingers. "I…I… suppose you c-couldn't."

Slipping from her folds, he gave two swift swats in a row. "No, I. Couldn't," he said easily as each smack of his palm landed against her burning ass to punctuate his words. "Not while he was there. How do you think that made me feel, Eleanor? Wanting to do such dirty, wonderful things to you, make you come so sweet and hard, but stuck across the courtyard, knowing it was him buried deep between your thighs instead of me? And here, all the while, you were wishing it was me inside you anyway. Was that five?"

"N-nine, and t-t-ten," she managed, unable now to prevent her body from rocking against his legs in need. The sheer silk trapped between her hardened nipples and his other leg, gliding against her sensitized skin as she writhed. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, John, that I made you feel that way. S-s-s-sorry I didn't tell you sooner. Please…please… thank you…another..."

"Ten? Are you sure?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Wasn't fair, either, wishing he could be something he wasn't," he stated calmly with number eleven. He traced the bottom edges of her cheeks near the juncture of her quivering thighs. "But you did the right thing, Eleanor, didn't you. You released him from those expectations. Released him to find his own happiness. Set him free before it was too late for both of you."

"I… I want him to… be happy, too," she panted, as his fingers were back inside her now, working nimbly against the hypersensitive spot at her womb's front wall. "Couldn't be… happy… with me. Only… only… only a matter of time…"

Ellie dropped her head, pulling her right arm from the window sill, reaching to wrap around his calf, anchor herself against the roaring pleasure rising over her. Gripping his leg she held on for fear of flying off, she let the wave crest and crash through her, both distantly and acutely aware of his palm delivering the final sharp smack punctuated by her breathy cries.

Laying prone against the steadiness of John's thighs, Ellie felt the rush of sensation ebb away. Gone was the persistent heaviness in her chest that she'd not truly been aware of until she felt the conspicuous absence. Still clutching his leg, she rested her head against his knee as her heartbeat pounded through her limbs. She couldn't stop the smile forming on her lips as she whispered breathlessly, " Twelve…Sir. Thank you. Thank you, John, thank you."

John rubbed her bottom tenderly, massaging the flesh now and again, before pulling her up into his lap and wrapping his arms around her. Ellie tucked her head beneath his chin, nestling into the crook of his neck. He crossed his ankle over the opposite knee, making a nest for her to curl up against his body heat, his still heated hand running up her thigh, pulling her closer to him. From somewhere behind him, he produced a throw blanket, tucking it around her limbs.

"It's done with, now," he murmured into her hair with a kiss. "Over and forgotten. You paid your penance. You're not to allow it one more moment to trouble you, ever again. Understood?"

"Understood, Sir," she replied, tucking her hands between his chest and hers.

"Good girl," he praised with a smile, rubbing his thumb along her upper arm. "There's my good girl."

.*.*.

To Be Continued…

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